


bad idea!

by transxander



Series: Ferdibert Week 2019 [3]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Friends With Benefits To Lovers, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Post-Time Skip, anyone? no? just me? aight, obsession but its just hubert doesnt know how to handle his crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:55:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21661789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transxander/pseuds/transxander
Summary: There is something so unnerving about being utterly unable to stop thinking about someone else. Hubert would know.[prompt: obsession]
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Series: Ferdibert Week 2019 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1559263
Comments: 2
Kudos: 121





	bad idea!

**Author's Note:**

> title from the song by girl in red because thats all ive been listening to (you know why). but yeah!! ferdibert week day three!! hope you enjoy!

Hubert stares at the ceiling. It is dark in his room, and he is painfully aware of his arm curled around a very naked waist, of long hair tickling his jaw. Ferdinand merely nuzzles closer.

He wishes the memories of last night weren’t so clear, instead were clouded by the haze of alcohol. At least he would have something to blame besides his slipping self-control. He remembers it much too vividly, him being pressed against the wall with lips against his own, Ferdinand pressed into his mattress with an expression that makes him shiver even now.

The moon, that chooses that exact moment to peek out from behind dark clouds, illuminates his sleeping form. Hubert cannot help but stare. If the Church’s goddess truly exists, she must be cruel indeed, for why else would she put such a beautiful being in his bloodstained reach?

However, deep down he knows this is no one’s fault but his own. When Ferdinand, who could not possibly have been completely sober yet was still so alluring, proposed this as a way to relieve stress (between trusted friends, he’d said, no strings attached), Hubert thought, hoped beyond all hope, that this might get rid of the confusing but all-overwhelming desire to spend every second of the day with him.

He had been such an utter fool.

These feelings intensified, and, to his further detriment, he could now recall sounds and sights he had only been able to imagine before. Concentrating on anything besides Ferdinand during council meetings that dragged on for far too long proved next to impossible. Their tea dates became the much needed break he looked forward to the entire day, week, because these were the only times he could focus solely on Ferdinand without feeling bad for it.

Though even when he was nowhere in sight, Hubert still found himself thinking of him. His work suffered for it (Edelgard was convinced he needed to take a break), and even what precious little sleep he could manage to get took a hit (it was ridiculously hard to fall asleep with his mind replaying scenes like _that_ ).

Of course, it didn’t stop at that one time. Again and again, his resolve wavered, no matter how many times he told himself it would not. It is over after tonight, he would decide. Still he would wake up with Ferdinand in his arms, any vow he might have made rendered useless to the burning warmth spreading in his chest.

Yet he couldn’t bring himself to take their relationship to the “next level”, as Dorothea was so fond of saying, either. Ferdinand could do so much better, after all. The suitors would be falling over themselves, should he announce he was looking for a lifelong partner. That he hadn’t didn’t stop them from trying now.

The sigh he lets out must have been too heavy, for Ferdinand stirs beside him. “Hubert?”

Even his smile is hidden in the shadows, together with the feelings he can’t bear to confront. “It is nothing. Go back to sleep.”  
  


* * *

  
Dorothea groans as she dramatically drapes herself across the table. “Hubie,” she says, muffled by said table pressed against her face, “why are you so stupid? How?” The tone in her voice would make someone assume he has just made the biggest mistake in his life. He fails to see it.

Stubbornly, he crosses his arms in front of his chest, determined to present the very image of a put together, well-functioning adult man, and not the idiot Dorothea claims him to be. “I beg to differ. None of my behaviour recently has been so ‘stupid’ it warrants your current moaning.”

With one hand supporting her chin, she lifts herself off of the table, making exaggeratedly pained noises all the while. “Hubie—” she pauses to take a breath through her nose, “Hubie, if I have to listen to you ‘moan’ about how in love you are with Ferdie one more time, I swear I am going to kill you. Would you _please_ ask him out?”

Hubert assures himself that the heat rising to his cheeks is from indignation, not shame. “I will—I will do no such thing. Absolutely not.”

A loud laugh catches his attention, and draws his eyes away from Dorothea. At a different table, a little ways from theirs, Lorenz and Ferdinand seem to be having a rather amusing conversation, if their giggling is any indication. He (Ferdinand, not Lorenz, definitely not Lorenz, Lorenz is like a cockroach you cannot get rid of, probably because he has built up an immunity to hairspray) looks beautiful, with hair spilling over his shoulders and laughter from his lips. For a moment, he is simply awestruck. A thwap to the shoulder from Dorothea brings him back to reality.

A devious grin has curled itself around her lips. “See?” she says, as cocky as she is chuckling. “You’ve got it bad, Hubie, admit it.” Before he can reply, she has already gotten up, her plate that is still half-full in her hands. “And, by the Goddess, just ask him out.”

He watches her walk away with a somewhat heavy heart. He too, he has to wonder how long he can keep up this dance with Ferdinand, and he finds himself worrying the answer may be a very short while.  
  


* * *

  
It has become impossible to focus on his work. This, this crush of his, it is a liability that he must get rid of post-haste. Edelgard has been sending him too many concerned looks from her side of the office, and the quality of his reports and letters has dwindled considerably, if he can finish them at all.

As such, his Emperor (his _Emperor_ , for crying out loud) is standing in front of him with a frown on her face and her hands planted firmly at her side. Clearly she will not budge so easily as she had done before. “Hubert,” she says, in that special tone of hers that lets him know this is business, “I insist you take a break. I forbid you to continue working any longer.”

He would have argued, tried to make his case for why he should stay, but of course, of bloody course, Ferdinand, who has both the most impeccable and the absolute worst timing in the entire world, decides to barge in at that exact moment, speaking of grand plans that involve too much tea and Hubert.

So he sits here, now, not at his desk, where he most assuredly should be, but at the gazebo, surrounded by roses and Ferdinand. They both smell wonderfully floral, he notes absentmindedly.

Ah. Why must it be so, that Ferdinand is this vexing appearance, like a siren, like the sweetest honey catching onto anything it touches? He cannot handle this, truly, soon he will spontaneously combust. Ferdinand seems completely oblivious to his internal turmoil, chatting away happily about flowers and horses and tea, and it is so endearing it hurts.

“Ferdinand,” he interrupts him, horribly rude of him but he does not know what else to do, “I, I—” he sucks in a sharp breath, “please allow me to court you.”

The animated smile on his face freezes as he blinks, once. “You…” He lets his face fall into his hands, and snorts.

Hubert thinks it must be the cutest sound he’s ever heard.

“Dear,” there is a giggle in Ferdinand’s voice, “I have been flirting with you for months.”

There is no way he can delude himself into thinking the heat rushing to his face is anything but shame. “Ah.”

It is the only thing he manages to say before Ferdinand pulls him forward, smile against smile, and oh, it may not be their first kiss, and it may not be the great romantic gestures romance books he does not read paint some as, but it is warm and soft and happy and like no other, he is sure.

And if Ferdinand has to ruin their wholesome mood by suggesting they retire to his chambers, well, he cannot say he is totally against it.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!


End file.
